


Bakery Son

by KaytiKazoo



Series: 2020 Prompts [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Baking, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaytiKazoo/pseuds/KaytiKazoo
Summary: Fitz is trying to bake a cake, Hunter steps in to help
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter
Series: 2020 Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985246
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Bakery Son

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 50 Day Fic Prompt, "it's really not that complicated", posted to [my tumblr.](http://kaytikazoo.tumblr.com)

“It’s really not that complicated,” Hunter said, pulling himself up on the counter nearby. Fitz shot him a look over his shoulder. “What? It’s not. The recipe outlines exactly how to make it. I’m not sure what’s tripping you up, love.”

“I just don’t understand it,” Fitz said.

“Boy genius with a PhD before he got his first blowjob doesn’t understand cake baking,” Hunter cooed at him.

“Shut up.”

Hunter rested his head in his hand and watched Fitz reread the directions. 

“Why does this matter so much?” Hunter asked.

“It’s Jemma’s birthday,” Fitz said. “I fuck up her cake every year and have to buy a shitty one from the store, and I want to get this right for  _ once _ .”

Hunter laughed quietly.

“Don’t laugh, it’s been over a decade and I fuck it up every single time.”

“If you want my help, you just have to ask,” Hunter said.

“And what can you do to help?”

Hunter quirked an eyebrow at Fitz. There was a smear of batter just above Fitz’s eyebrow, and Hunter wanted to kiss it off. 

“You don’t listen to me, apparently,” Hunter said. “You know my mum owns a bakery, right?”

“She does?”

“Oh, Fitz,” Hunter sighed and shook his head.

“Sorry,” Fitz said, turning and stepping up into Hunter’s space. “I’m a bad boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not,” Hunter replied, drawing Fitz closer and settling him between his spread legs. “We’ve been a little buy fighting the bad guys. It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, setting his hands on Hunter’s thighs. 

“It’s okay,” Hunter repeated, kissing Fitz’s forehead. “When we get time off, I’ll take you there. How’s that sound?”

“I’d like that.”

“Good.”

“Tell me about the bakery?”

“Yeah, let’s restart the cake, and I’ll tell you about it.”

He hopped down off the counter, right into Fitz’s space. 

“Hello,” Fitz said with a laugh.

“Hello love,” Hunter said, and he drew Fitz even closer, kissing him soft and slow. “Mmm, you taste sweet.”

“Don’t,” Fitz said, taking a step back. “Don’t start. You can’t distract me.”

“Can’t I kiss my boyfriend without trying to start something?”

“You certainly could, but you’ve never managed it before, darling.”

Hunter laughed and tickled Fitz’s sides while he was distracted.

“Oh! No! No!” Fitz giggled, ducking out of his space and heading back to the kitchen island where all of his ingredients and his tablet with the recipe were up. Hunter stepped back into him and took up the tablet, reading over the recipe. He frowned.

“Half of your problem is this. The ratio of baking powder to baking soda is wrong, which means your cake is rising too much in the oven, and collapsing because too much air is escaping it,” Hunter replied, and he exited the recipe before Fitz could argue. He quickly searched and found his mum’s baking blog, scrolling until he found one of her recipes. He set it back on the counter. He didn’t need the recipe, but this was Fitz’s cake, and he was just here to help.

“Okay,” Hunter said. “Let’s start fresh with this.”

He stood next to Fitz, and dumped the crumb-like batter into the garbage next to them.

“My mum opened the bakery when she was pregnant with me,” he said. “She set up a play room in the middle of the stock room for me to play in, and I spent my entire childhood there. I learned how to make cupcakes before I could even tie my shoes.”

“That’s adorable. You must have been so cute. Did you have a little apron of your own?”

“I did.”

“Please, tell me that there are pictures.”

“There are. There’s one up in the bakery, actually, above the register, of me, Mum, and Dad.”

Fitz rested his head against Hunter’s shoulder for a moment.

“I bet you were real cute,” Fitz agreed. 

“I was.”

“Still are.”

Hunter laughed and kissed his hairline. 

“So, I’ve been baking next to my mum since I was old enough to reach the counter. She let me pick out flavor combinations, and taught me how to decorate cupcakes. Okay, for the cake, we’re going to start with the dry ingredients.”

“Okay.”

“Did you preheat the oven?”

“No,” Fitz said. 

“Okay, that’s an important step. 350 degrees, please.”

Fitz went to the oven and turned it on.

“The oven has to be at the proper temperature when you put the cake in or it will mess with the texture.”

“I did not know that.”

“Yeah, baking is  finnicky ,” Hunter said. “If the ratios are wrong, or the temperature isn’t right, it’ll come out stodgy, or  underbaked .”

“You should go on Great British Bake Off,” Fitz said.

“Mmm, maybe when I’m done here,” Hunter said, tugging Fitz back to the bowl. 

“I’m going to buy you an apron, just to take it off of you.”

“That sounds nice.”

Fitz kissed his shoulder. 

“Tell me more,” Fitz said, “about the bakery. About your mum.”

“Well, she cannot carry a tune, but whenever she made icing, she’d sing along to the radio. She had an 80s station she preferred, all the hair bands, all the classic rock. I love her so much. I haven’t seen her in a year or more. Been even longer since I was at the bakery.”

He watched Fitz measure out the ingredients slowly.

“I used to do my homework at one of the tables, and listen to her sing. I’d help her close up, dancing while we cleaned. She’d tell me about pieces of history that she knew. She loves history, but I’m pretty sure she mixed up some things. I liked hearing her talk, about anything, it didn’t matter what. My dad, he was always such a hard ass, he didn’t let my mum get a word in ever. So, at the bakery, it was just me and her, and she could fill the room with words, and I’d let her.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You’ll like her, Fitz. She’s so smart, and so kind, and so resilient. She got sick when I was about thirteen. She has an autoimmune disease, and it was the first time she’d gotten really sick. It was scary, but she was so brave. She hasn’t let that stop her. She keeps going every day.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is.”

Fitz set the salt down on the counter.

“Next?”

“Wet ingredients. Do we have any brewed coffee or instant espresso powder?”

“ Uhh , maybe. Why? It’s not a coffee cake.”

“So, a little bit of coffee brings out the chocolate flavor, makes it richer, deeper.”

He kissed Fitz’s neck.

“You know, if I give Simmons a cake that’s good, she’s going to expect me to give her a cake that’s good every year. And I don’t know if that’s something I can do alone.”

“Well, luckily, my darling, I’ll be here to walk you through it every time.”

“Are you proposing?”

“Mmm, not officially,” Hunter said. “You need to meet my mum before I do that, but consider it an announcement of intention.”

“Oh?”

“I want to be by your side for as long as you’ll have me. I want to help you make Jemma’s birthday cake for as long as she has birthdays.”

He kissed the edge of Fitz’s jaw. 

“I’ll have you,” Fitz said. “Whenever you want to officially propose, I’ll have you then, too.”

“Oh,  _ I _ have to propose? You won’t do it?”

“You started it, mister. You brought up proposal.”

“That’s true, of course,” Hunter said, “but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t say no to you proposing first.”

“I will certainly keep that in mind.”

Hunter searched through the cupboards and found a small container of instant espresso powder above the coffee maker. He knew someone in this base had to drink it. Fitz watched his hands as he unscrewed the lid.

“What’s your face for?”

“I love your hands, that’s all. Please continue.”

Hunter used a teaspoon to scoop out the powder and sprinkle it over the batter.

“Mix that in,” Hunter said, setting the teaspoon and the container down. It was his turn to watch, fascinated by Fitz’s arms as much as Fitz enjoyed his hands. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”

“What’s next?”

“Pour it into the prepared pan and put it in the oven for approximately half an hour.”

Fitz carefully poured the batter into the pan, and took it over to the oven. When it was in the oven, he turned back Hunter.

“What now?”

“Well, we’ve got thirty minutes. I can think of a few things we can do to pass the time.”


End file.
